Thanks for all the positive feedback, especially about our favourite creep! I'm taking some artistic licensing with Enochian symbols in this one – hope no one minds!

oOo

"I'm the water that'll drown you."

- Nobody's Praying for Me, Seether

oOo

"I want you to be happy, Sam."

"I don't want anything from you!"

Sam stared at Thomas, eyes wide in disbelief, Lucifer's words ringing in Thomas' voice. He felt sick, the same as he had when Lucifer told him the same thing all those years ago. Why did the people that wanted to take everything from him always claim that they were doing it for his benefit?

Thomas was clearly insane – actually crazy. Sam had always assumed that, between Thomas and Toni, Thomas was the more reasonable one. Obviously, his behaviour, his devotion to Toni, had been anything but normal, but Sam hadn't realised how…obsessive the Englishman truly was. The thought horrified him in ways that he couldn't even begin to comprehend.

He whimpered softly; he couldn't stop himself. He didn't want to look weak, but he was nowhere even close to feeling normal and Thomas' proposal terrified him.

"Don't worry, Sam; I'm not going to give you up to Lucifer" Thomas insisted, misinterpreting Sam's obvious fear. "I would never do that – not now. He's partly to blame for what happened to Miss Toni; he doesn't deserve you. Not now. Not ever."

Was that supposed to be a comfort? Sam shifted uneasily, wishing, not for the first time in the last five minutes, that he was anywhere else. At least with Lucifer, Sam knew what his game was. With Thomas, he had no idea.

"The problem we do have, however, is your behaviour at the moment. How do you explain that?" Thomas continued, snapping Sam's attention back to him. "When you were taken from me – only just over a week ago, I might add – we were obviously having a few problems. I know how unsettling everything was in those last few days, particularly when we had to move around. That wasn't ideal, I'll admit. So I'll start off by saying that I don't want you to worry about that now, Sam; you're not going to be shifted around again. We're going to stay here, get our routines established." Sam slid his gaze away, staring up at the ceiling, trying to fight the panic that rose up inside him. Thomas just carried on. "But that doesn't excuse your lapse now. I already know exactly what the problem has been, what has made the change: your brother."

Sam's eyes flashed back to lock onto Thomas', a glare creasing his forehead. His hands balled into fists.

"See? That's exactly what I'm talking about," Thomas remarked, pointing at Sam's reaction. "It would appear you've reverted back to the petulant thug I met four months ago and I will make this very clear now: I shan't stand for it. Dean is clearly an awful influence on you and even a small amount of time with him has brought all your bad habits back.

"So I expect you to start behaving appropriately again. You're going to get rid of the whole silly notion of escaping or you will force me to go and pay your brother a visit. We're going to have to go right back to the basics which is most galling. You are going to have to earn your privileges." Sam swallowed the snarl that started to build in his throat. Thomas' insistence on treating him like a child was what was galling – not his 'behaviour'! How else did the Englishman expect him to react to being held against his will? Thomas looked at him thoughtfully. "Now, you have listened…reasonably well, I suppose, so, as a show of good will, how about we take that gag off?"

The relief that flooded through the hunter was like a tidal wave and he hated it; he didn't want to feel indebted to Thomas in any way. He tried to squash the feeling, but couldn't and, as he lifted his head, allowing Thomas access to the knot in the cloth, he felt it surge. The cloth slid from around his mouth and Thomas gently pulled the second one from inside his mouth. Sam groaned, licking parched lips with a dry tongue and closed his mouth properly for the first time in hours. He fixed his glare back on Thomas who had gone to the shelf across the room returning with a water bottle as Sam found his voice, rough as it was.

"If you do anything to Dean, I swear –"

"Ah!" Thomas interrupted him, holding a finger up and frowning down at Sam disapprovingly. "Don't you dare try and threaten me, Sam. That gag can go straight back on and stay there if that's the case. That's your first boundary; you will stay civil or you won't talk at all. Am I clear? Or do I need to put it back on?"

Sam shut his mouth, jaw muscles visibly clenching and unclenching. He said nothing, staring up at the ceiling. Satisfied, Thomas flipped up the sports cap on the water bottle.

"Here" he offered, tilting it towards Sam's mouth. Sam scowled up at him.

"If you let me go, I can do it myself" he grumbled. Thomas frowned and straightened up, taking the water with him. Sam panicked. "No! Wait…please."

Thomas waited, the seconds dragging.

"That's better, Sam. Manners don't cost anything," he remarked, repeating his same old mantra as he bent down again and offered the water again. Sam leaned up and drank deeply, satiating the thirst that had been driving him mad for hours, even when he'd been asleep. Up until the last nightmare, all the others had been water based. Now he could feel the cool liquid dribbling down his throat, down his oesophagus and pooling in his stomach. It was yet another relief that he didn't want to feel.

"With regards to your comment, you must realise that it is far too soon for me to let you have that much freedom; I think your little stunt this morning proved that. Obviously, I'm not an unreasonable man though. How quickly you want to gain that freedom will be up to you. The more you do as you're told, the sooner it will be. Everything is your choice, Sam. It really is that simple."

Bullshit echoed through Sam's mind but he didn't dare say it. Thomas was right about one thing; Sam hadn't forgotten what he was like. Profanity was one thing that bothered the self-confessed 'gentleman'. Thomas pulled away once Sam had finished drinking, placing the empty bottle in a small bin in the corner.

"So why am I here?" Sam asked, watching the Englishman warily as he went to a small metal cabinet and pulled out a white bundle of clothes.

"I told you: we're going to start afresh."

"That's a load of horse cra-" Thomas shot him a warning look. Sam readjusted his words choice quickly. "I don't believe you."

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way."

"You can't honestly think I'm going to willing go anywhere with you, do you? Thomas, you helped Toni torture me for months. You force-fed me demon blood before trying to palm me off to Lucifer. Then, you hurt my brother and abduct me, fully admitting that the only way you can keep me here is to chain me up. You've got to realise how crazy that sounds right?" Sam implored him, watching as he picked up a pair of scissors from the shelf across the room. Thomas stood over him, gazing down at him, a mixture of regret and – what was that? – concern written on his features.

"What if I told you I was protecting you?" Thomas responded as he picked up the front of Sam's shirt. The hunter shifted and looked down at his hands.

"What're you doing?" he asked, watching as Thomas started to cut through his shirt. Thomas glanced up at him.

"You can't stay in the same clothes; it's hardly practical and, before you say it, no: I don't trust you enough to let you dress yourself."

The humiliation burned hot in Sam, bringing a warm flush to his skin. Thomas didn't acknowledge it; he just continued cutting until the whole of Sam's shirt was in ruins.

"What the hell do you mean you're 'protecting' me? Protecting me from what?" Sam growled, struggling to keep his tone level but he couldn't help the bite in his words. Thomas pulled the destroyed shirt out from under him, leaving his torso bare. He shivered and not from the cold.

"I'm going to release you one wrist at a time to get this on. Remember the rules, Sam and what your consequences will be if you don't do as you're told. Look," Thomas pointed at the leather cuffs around Sam's wrists. The hunter followed his finger. "They're padlocked on. If you fight, the only thing you'll achieve is testing my patience. Lift up your head." Sam seethed inwardly, hating it but he knew the Man of Letters was right; without a key or a lock pick, he was stuck. He lifted his head, letting Thomas slide the shirt over and around his neck. Thomas produced a set of keys from his pocket, unlocking the first padlock on his right wrist. He moved the key, and the lock, onto the chair, far out of Sam's reach before unbuckling the strap. Sam pulled his arm down and stretched it out, catching Thomas' frown.

"My shoulders ache" he complained, rotating it slowly. Thomas nodded and let him have the movement as he made no move to throw a punch. He bundled up the shirt sleeve and held it aloft so that Sam could stick his arm through. Begrudgingly, Sam held his arm back up again so that Thomas could reattach the cuff, locking it back in place.

"Protect me from what?" Sam asked again as Thomas repeated the same movements with his other arm. When the shirt was on, he pulled it down, covering Sam's torso.

"That I can't tell you. You're not ready yet" Thomas replied calmly, moving to the end of the bed.

"You can't claim something like that and then keep me in the dark about it!" Sam barked.

"Sam…" Thomas' voice was laced with warning, his expression darkening.

"No! I deserve to know! What the hell could be worse than you, you twisted son of a bitch?" Sam spat, glaring at the older man. Thomas went absolutely still.

The air froze around them.

Silently, Thomas stepped back up towards the top end of the bed, stooping to grab something from the chair; Sam couldn't see what. He could feel the anger rolling off Thomas as the older man turned on him, but his expression not livid as Sam had expected, instead it was a mask of frustrated disappointed.

"That sounded an awful lot like ingratitude to me, Sam. Such a shame; we were making such progress" Thomas sighed, stepping closed. Sam shifted, catching a glimpse of Thomas' clutched hand.

"Wait! No!" he shouted as Thomas lunged, shoving the discarded cloth from earlier back into Sam's mouth before he had the chance to twist away. Sam howled, bucking and thrashing his head but Thomas' hand clamped down, restricting his movements as he pulled a bandana from his back pocket. Slipping the centre of it between the fingers of the hand he was holding down the hunter with, he held one end with his free hand as he slid the other hand around the side of Sam's face so that the cloth instantly replaced his hand and let him twist Sam's head to the side. He yanked it tightly and tied it off, ignoring Sam's moans of protest at its severity. He straightened up and crossed his arms, watching as Sam shook his head, trying to loosen the tight material.

"I gave you more warnings than you deserved. Your language was hardly civil. As I said before; everything that happens to you is your choice," Thomas explained, again disregarding Sam's incoherent attempts to speak. He would have the opportunity to apologise later. "Let's continue shall we?"

Thomas moved away again, heading back to the shelf once more. Sam watched him nervously, regretting his temper and yet unable to take it back. The gag was uncomfortably tight after the small reprieve he'd had. Yet the treatment simply stoked the defiance in him. He wasn't weak! No – he was afraid, he was exhausted and he didn't know how he was going to get out of all of this, but he did know one truth in that moment: he'd be damned if he let Thomas get his 'new future'.

Sam watched as he approached the foot of the bed again, two pairs of metal shackles in his hands. Wordlessly, he bent over and snapped each pair around Sam's ankles, below the strap that held his legs together. He attached the other ends to the rail at the foot of the bed and stooped to undo the padlock on the original chain. As soon as he felt the chain loosen, Sam jerked, yanking on his legs. The new shackles bit into his ankles. He huffed, glaring at the top of Thomas' head as he set about removing both leather straps from around Sam's legs. The pressure fell away from around his knees. He grunted angrily, struggling when Thomas pulled his boots off but unable to stop him. The Englishman placed them on the floor.

The pair locked eyes again as Thomas stared at him thoughtfully. He walked to Sam's middle and reached down, unbuckling the hunter's belt. Sam bucked, thrashing wildly, muffled shouts coming out as whispers. Thomas paused, his hands still on Sam's belt. He looked at the hunter sharply.

"If you don't desist, Sam, I swear to God I will tie you down so that you can't move" he hissed, blue eyes flashing. Loathing himself as he did it, Sam stopped, willing himself to settle. Thomas wasn't one to make an idle threat – not in the mood he was now in anyway. Sam didn't want to see him get truly imaginative; the car had been bad enough.

Staring up at the ceiling, shame filled him as he felt his jeans being pulled down. "Sam." He looked down. "If you even dare try and kick me, I will make good on that promise, do you understand?" Thomas warned. Sam gave the smallest nod he could get away with and went back to staring at the ceiling, pretending that none of this was happening. The shackle around his right ankle disappeared and he kept his leg still as his jeans were pulled off and a soft cotton material took its place. Despair tucked at him as the shackle was reapplied but moved, dragging his foot to the side. The same process happened with his left leg until his jeans, the last vestige of his own identity was taken, replaced by the sterile white pyjamas they had kept him in for months. The material was soft and warm but Sam hated it against his skin.

"There. Much better than that hideous material. Honestly, Sam, I don't know how you wear it" Thomas remarked, bundling up the offending jeans. Sam just continued to stare up, unwilling to give the older man the satisfaction of a reaction.

The door squealed open, both men looking up as sunlight poured in and down, a long shadow elongating into the room. He didn't know why, but hope surged through Sam even though he knew it would be no one who would help him. When he saw Anna's rigid frame descend the stairs, he let his head drop back against the pillow, turning his face towards the wall.

"This just arrived, Thomas. I thought you'd want it as soon as possible" Anna explained, handing him a small brown packet. He took it from her with a warm smile, her presence dissipating the anger than Sam's unruliness had caused.

"Thank you. This will suffice until we have a more permanent solution. I won't be long; Sam and I are nearly finished up for the day" he assured her. She gave a brief nod and walked out without batting an eyelid in Sam's direction. Thomas obviously had everything under control. She left without another word.

Thomas turned back to Sam again and sighed. He hadn't wanted it to be this way; he'd hoped Sam would have been more compliant. There was nothing worse than leaving with a bad feeling in the air. Sitting back down on the chair, he studied Sam carefully. Noted the tension that ran up his arms, balling into his fists, the way his throat worked as though he was struggling to contain his emotions. It was an emotional time for both of them. Thomas wished Sam would see that.

"Sam, I need you to understand that all of this is for your benefit. You think I'm being cruel and unkind. That's not my intention; I don't want to be. I want to trust you, but trust is earned where I come from. The more you show me that I can, the more things I can give you. Things like access to the facilities up at the house – the shower and the like. I'm sure you'd like that. But that's something we're going to have to negotiate between us. I really am looking out for you – protecting you, putting your wellbeing first. One day, you'll thank me for this – I'm sure of it."

Sam continued to stare at the wall, but the slight shift in the tightening of his fingers told Thomas that he was listening. Sighing once again, Thomas stood up and picked up the discarded black cloth. Sam jumped, moaning softly into his gag when Thomas slipped the blindfold on him once again.

"I know, Sam, I know. But it's only for when I'm gone. You'll be alright" Thomas soothed, stroking Sam's hair fondly. Opening the small packet Anna had given him, he let a small necklace on a silver chain slide out into his palm. The pendant was round and flat, an intricate Enochian symbol ornately designed. It had been hard to come by, but it would be worth it. It was the only way he could block Sam's pet angel. Once he had it on, it blocked his prayers, much like the carvings on his ribs prevented angels from being able to find him. Thomas had no idea if Sam had already contacted the angel, but he couldn't risk any further communication.

Unhooking the clasp, he slipped it around Sam's neck, the younger man jumping in surprise at the contact. Securing it, Thomas let the pendant sit against Sam's chest, just below his throat. Sam shifted; he knew Thomas had done something but the necklace was light enough that he couldn't really feel it.

"I'll be back later; try to rest. Think about what I've said and what choices you want to make in the future," Thomas instructed as he sprayed another round of Dean's cologne onto the bed near Sam's head. Sam moaned as the scent drifted up to him. It was a strange noise – caught somewhere between despair and comfort. Thomas turned and walked towards the door. He picked up Sam's discarded clothes; he would burn them later. Climbing the steps, he nearly missed the tiny sob that came up from the cellar. Thomas shook his head, almost sadly.

It was as Anna had pointed out to him earlier; he needed to be cruel to be kind.

Anna was just outside the storm cellar, pulling at a few stray weeds that were growing haphazardly near the door. She ripped them up, revealing delicate white ends covered in dusty soil. Balling them up in her fist, she squashed them between deft fingers.

"He was rude then" she remarked, stating it as though it was a given fact that the hunter would be; he couldn't be anything else. They walked back towards the farmhouse side by side, the light slowly dimming, casting a gleam of gold across the grey slats.

"He'll learn; he did before. It's a lot better than starting completely from scratch again."

"It might as well be. If his brother is even half the influence you think he is, it's going to take a lot of work."

"True. But it shan't be long before he comes to depend on us. I intend to keep the blindfold and gag on him, regardless of his behaviour, to begin with and only remove them when I'm there. That way he will begin to associate my presence with freedom. He was broken just before the events in the barn; he won't have recovered properly from that. His journal said so. If I can wear him down enough with those tactics to begin with, I can start to develop the finer details that will move our plans forward" Thomas explained, holding the door open for Anna as they got back to the house. The warm aroma of stew wafted into his nostrils, making his stomach growl. "Anna, that smells absolutely wonderful."

Anna smiled, a genuine soft smile. "It won't be long until it's ready."

"Have I got time to sketch that symbol? If I'm going to get the metalwork made, I need to give them an accurate representation."

"I should think so. I'll call you when it is" Anna offered. Thomas patted her arm warmly before heading back into the dining room. Flicking the dulled screen back to life, he flipped open a notepad and got to work, Sam's moans of discomfort drifting through the speakers as Thomas hummed gently to himself.

oOo

Mason City, Iowa

Castiel had arrived by lunch time, stalking into the motel room to find Dean and Jody sat collating the bits of information they already had. They had already dropped off the samples at the local sheriff's office, Jody's contact proving to be more than obliging and even offering to put it through as a rush job. He promised to get them preliminary results by that evening.

Now it was pushing towards late afternoon and Dean was sat scrolling through images of medium sized SUVs on Google. He'd been unable to visualise the car properly from his memory and hoped that one of the images would jog it. Jody was busy researching the audio speaker she'd found. Cas lay on the bed, his eyes closed, expression serious. Dean kept glancing up at him, restlessly waiting. The angel wasn't asleep; he was attempting to contact Sam. They had no idea if Sam would be asleep – it wasn't anywhere near night time – but it was worth a shot. The hunter drew his eyes back to the laptop, flicking through the images until, suddenly, his fingers paused. He clicked on the image and enlarged it.

"Got it!" he exclaimed triumphantly. Jody raised her eyebrows questioningly. "BMW X5. That's what I saw next to the Impala last night. It had to have been his car."

Jody nodded and rose. "I'll go see what the front desk got – even a number plate would be a start." They'd already agreed there was no point in Dean going; there were only so many 'favours' he could ask of the motel owner before she started getting suspicious. Jody left, shutting the door quietly behind her. Castiel blinked his eyes open, refocusing on the tiled ceiling.

"Anythin'?" Dean blurted out, unable to stop himself. Cas sat up and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Dean; I can't reach him. I presume he's awake which we did expect since it's still the afternoon. I'll try again later tonight" Cas reassured him, pity filling him at Dean's crestfallen expression. "It doesn't mean anything. I just can't reach him if he's conscious, that's all."

"But he seriously hasn't tried to contact you at all?" Dean asked desperately, his brow crinkling into a frown. Cas sighed and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but no. You can't read too much into that either, Dean. There could be a whole host of reasons that we don't know about. One thing we do know: Sam won't have made it easy for them, I'm sure."

"Yeah I know" Dean mumbled, the knot in his stomach plummeting. That was part of what terrified him; Sam may not have been himself, but his stubborn nature had got him into a whole host of problems in the past. Whoever had him wouldn't know that he wasn't himself – not that they would make any kind of allowances anyway. They needed to find out who Sam's abductor was – and now. Obviously, there was no way it could be Toni; she was dead – confirmed by Jonathan Markham himself. Lucifer was above such base methods, although if he was as weak as they thought he might be, Dean wouldn't put it past him. The thought made him nauseous.

Sam would say no. He always would but the thought of him going through even half of what Dean imagined he'd gone through with Toni again sent wave after wave of unadulterated panic through the older Winchester. They hadn't even really talked about Sam's experience – only small bits and pieces – and that was enough to send Dean's imagination into overdrive.

"Dean." Cas' voice broke through his reverie. He looked up into the concerned blue eyes that stared down at him. "Imagining the worst-case scenario isn't going to help; you're only making yourself feel worse and you don't need that."

"Don't I?" Dean asked bitterly. "It's my fault he got taken in the first place. If I hadn't left him –"

"You left a capable hunter in a locked motel room for barely ten minutes, Dean. There is no way you could have foreseen this coming. How many times have you and Sam been in more obvious danger? I know you need to protect Sam – more so in the last week than ever – but that doesn't mean you couldn't leave him. You thought he was safe; we all did. There is no one to blame but whoever it was that did this and we've already established that this was well planned and executed. Even if you hadn't gone, I think the same thing would have happened. Stop concentrating on what you think you should have done and focus on what we need to do."

Castiel's words hit like a hammer, but Dean knew he was right. He couldn't stop himself from feeling guilty – that was never going to happen – but he did need to stay focused. The more he panicked, the less astute he was.

The door breezed open and Jody came back in, her face set in a frustrated scowl.

"That woman is just about the biggest gossip I have ever met. She takes Donna's crown, that's for sure" she grumbled, sitting back at the table. Dean looked at her expectantly, even though he knew the answer. She shook her head. "CCTV has been broken since yesterday mornin'."

"Convenient" Dean growled.

"That's what I thought. I'm guessin' he parked up, broke it and then booked in. She's got nothin'. But," Jody held up a hand when Dean made to interrupt, "he can't do that with every camera in town; I got a call from Jack – results came in. Both the pizza and beer were laced with a slow acting sedative that wouldn't have been enough to knock you out, but was enough to make you wobbly. I've asked if we can come look at traffic cameras so we're free to go do that. We need to know how your food got tampered with too."

"We should interrogate the pizza man" Castiel offered. Dean pulled a face.

"It sounds so wrong when you say it."

"He's not the same pizza man. I know that. I am aware that not all pizza men act in the same way" Cas grumbled, frowning. Dean gave him a half smile.

"Okay. Jody, you and Cas go to the sheriff's and start lookin' for a black BMW X5. I doubt it's a common make round here and even finding out what direction it went in would be a start. I'll go talk to the pizza guy."

oOo

Dean stood by the counter inside Godfather's Pizza, leaning against the counter as he waited. The place was packed with noisy families and the usual clanking and ringing of cutlery and glasses from the patrons and the shouts and bustle from the kitchen.

A lanky teenager rushed out of the door behind the counter, adjusting his hat as he looked nervously at Dean with large brown eyes. His elongated limbs and lack of grace brought memories of Sam during his first real growth spurt flooding back for Dean. It had felt like one minute Sam was the same little kid who had no chance of ever actually growing, the next he was the giant that Dean had to look up to, which, to this day, still felt weird. It'd taken Sam a long time to fill out and look like he fitted in his own body – the boy in front of him still had a few years before that happened. One thing was for sure: he wasn't the delivery guy Dean had seen the night before, confirming his suspicions before he even needed to ask anything.

"Am I in trouble?" he blurted out, eyes fearful. Dean gave him a small smile and shook his head.

"No, you're not. I just need to ask you a few questions about a delivery you made last night."

The boy visibly relaxed. "Oh. Well I made loads but I'll try my best to answer."

"You went to the Commandeer Inn, right? Room 11?" Dean asked. The boy's face lit up and he nodded eagerly.

"Yeah! Met the guy outside – said he was on his way back into the room. Gave me a twenty and took his order there and then. Easiest twenty bucks I've ever made."

"Can you tell me what he looked like?"

"He was kinda average – Dark hair, beard, maybe an inch or so shorter than you? Real polite though" the boy replied. Dean nodded, mentally comparing the description to the man he'd seen last night. It was him. Inwardly he cursed as he thanked the boy and walked out, pulling out his phone, just as it started to ring. Jody's number popped up on the screen.

"Hey," Dean greeted as he walked back towards the Impala. "So our mystery guy did get hold of our dinner – son of a bitch pretended he was on his way back to our room. Same description as the motel owner's and it fits with what I saw. Doesn't really help us find Sam, though."

"Every detail helps, Dean; even the stuff that doesn't seem important," Jody replied, her voice crackling over the line. Dean slid into the car, pulling the door shut with its familiar squeal. "We think we might've found that car on the cameras. Get your ass here now so we can confirm it."

Yes. This was the break they needed. Hope flared.

"I'll be there in ten."

oOo

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